


this is not the end for us

by jatty



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Domestic Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Extramarital Affairs, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:26:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3892933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jatty/pseuds/jatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ceaselessly tormented at home, Frank goes to Gerard for comfort during their break from tour, possibly opening the door to an opportunity he'd long since thought he'd lost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tragician

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written on request and after some deliberation I decided to write it as a challenge to myself since I specialize in slash...specifically non-con slash. So this is way outside my normal comfort zone but I really wanted to give it a try!
> 
> **Also! Jamia in this fic is a very terrible person, which is not a reflection of my opinion of her! She's Frank's wife and the mother of his children--if he thinks she's pretty awesome, she's probably pretty damn awesome. 
> 
> (Original Prompt: Can you write a fic where Frank is abused (physically/sexually/emotionally) by his wife and goes to Gerard, who's his ex, for comfort?) Hopefully this fic is what you're looking for!
> 
> ***Slight timeline AU, but I guess it's set during Danger Days era where stage frerard made a brief reappearance***

His stomach was in knots by the time he reached the front door of his house, his hands shaking as he tested the knob. The door was locked—the way every door should be in Jersey, even in the nicer neighborhoods, and he took his heavy key ring out of his pocket. His trembling makes the keys jingle even louder and he nearly drops them onto the ground. 

He couldn’t help but smile as he singled out the key to his front door in between his car key and all the key chains and charms he’d picked up during tour. Some were for bands he’d toured with, others were gifts from fans he felt like keeping close before donating them to the pile—the pile of gifts and letters that had completely overwhelmed his spare room. 

As soon as the lock released its hold in the doorframe, Frank’s smile had become a wide grin. Home. He was finally _home._ He was so happy—so relieved—and he just hoped his wife would be as happy to see him as he was to see her again. Maybe she even let the girls stay up to greet him. 

But it was going on two-thirty in the morning so they were probably sound asleep. 

Maybe if Jamia was in a good mood, she’d let him go in and wake them, just to let them know he was home and he’d be there to eat lunch with them even if he’d undoubtedly sleep through breakfast. 

Frank pushed open the door, light flooding out onto the dark porch. All of the familiar smells of home reached him at once and he hurried to step inside, almost forgetting his luggage on the porch. He grabbed it at the last moment and hauled the heavy luggage and guitar case into the foyer, leaning them each against the wall.

“Jamia?” He called, smiling as he closed and relocked the door—both deadbolts and the chain. She _had_ been expecting him. She even undid the chain lock for him this time so he didn’t have to ring the bell and wake the girls. The dogs had been put up too so they wouldn’t bark at him, it seemed. 

Frank moved quickly through the house, seeking his wife and ready to wrap her up in his arms and never let go. 

“Jamia?” He called again, confused when he stepped into the living room and the light was off—the television dark and silent. 

She’d left the foyer light on for him, but had she given up on him and gone to bed? Frank noticed, then, that the kitchen light was on and he quickly made his way to the room, expecting to see his wife siting in the breakfast nook, reading maybe—or pretending to because this time she would be excited to have him home and would be too elated to focus on the page. 

But she wasn’t there.

Frank’s stomach tightened when he noticed a letter on the counter next to his coffee maker. He knew what that letter would say and he could hardly bring himself to go over and pick it up. 

Things had been going so well, he thought. He’d talked to her on the phone the night before and she’d sounded happy that he was coming home. Why, then, would the house be silent? No dogs barking. No kids waiting up to hear his key in the door. No wife waiting by the television. Just a letter. 

The last time he’d come home to a letter, she’d taken the girls to visit her mother and took the dogs as well. She hated travelling with the dogs. She’d done it so he would come home to the pain of an empty house, reminding him in her own passive way of what the future would be for him if he dared to place his music and his touring over her and his family. 

Slowly, Frank crept over to the letter and lifted up from the tile counter. 

_Took dogs 2 kennel for 2nite. Girls need sleep. Just come up._ There was a little heart with an arrow through it at the bottom of the page and Frank let out a sigh of relief. He let the note fall back on the counter and hurried upstairs, not bothering with the lights. He knew this house—he knew every step and he’d missed it so much. 

When he got to the top of the stairs, he noticed that his bedroom light was on, a yellow beam showing from the crack beneath the door. For a moment he grappled with decision of whether to sneak into the girls’ room, but knew they needed rest and Jamia wouldn’t want to be kept waiting. The girls would be just as happy to see him in the morning—supposing they still remembered who he was. 

“Jamia?” Frank said, a small bit of fear remaining as he pushed open the bedroom door. The house was _so_ quiet. He feared more than anything that she’d tricked him and had actually left again. He’d been gone longer than he’d hoped—more and more dates being added to the tour overseas—and she hated it so much when he told her he’d be home soon only to have him call the next night to tell her he’d lied—that he was wrong and wouldn’t be home for several more weeks.

But there she was, sitting in their bed with a book in her hands. She even smiled when she saw, even though she had to be tired from being kept up so late, and Frank rushed into the room. He didn’t bother closing the door behind him. He climbed onto the bed and crawled up to her, not sure if he wanted to hug her or kiss her first, and ending up doing both at once—practically falling against her and pinning her to the headboard as he kissed her deeply on the mouth. 

“I missed you,” he said in between kisses, reaching up to run his fingers through her hair. 

“I missed you,” she repeated, kissing him on the cheek and then pushing him back so she could set her book aside on the nightstand and wrap her arms around him. 

“I love you,” he said when she didn’t say anything else.

“Yes. I love you too,” she said, patting his back and then pushing him away again, but gently. 

He couldn’t help but sit back and smile at her dumbly, so happy to be home—so happy to be with her again. He waited for her to talk to him, to ask him how his ride home had been or about their last show, but she just looked at him blinking. 

“I-I got some presents for the girls. They’re in my suitcase,” he said. It was the first thing that came to mind. He was happy to see his wife, but he wished he could see his girls. 

“The girls are asleep. You don’t need to wake them up or they’ll be up the rest of the night.”

“I know,” Frank said, smiling despite the annoyed look overcoming her face. She was happy to see him, even if she didn’t show it the best. She’d never been the most expressive. “I got you a present,” he added, crawling back over top of her and kissing her on the lips.

“A real present or are you talking about _this_ again?” She brought up her hand, banging her knuckles against his crotch. It hurt, but just a little, and he giggled before kissing her cheek.

“It’s a real gift,” Frank said, nuzzling her neck. “Cost lots of money,” he added seductively.

He didn’t expect her to huff and push him back by his shoulders.

“How _much_ money?” She asked, scowling at him. It was enough to take the smile right off his face. He felt like a small child about to be scolded for losing his lunch money.

“Just—just a little…a little extravagant.”

“You know the back deck needs repaired. How much did you spend?”

“Can I show you first? I promise you’ll like it,” Frank said, flashing a smile. 

Her face softened and she rolled her eyes. 

“Alright. What did you bring me?” 

Frank leaned back and took the jewelry box from his back pocket. He’d been too afraid to leave it in his suitcase, terrified it would be lost or somehow stolen if it weren’t no his person. 

“I got it in London at this really neat antique store,” he said, handing the box to her. 

She took it, her face skeptical. He knew she hated receiving expensive things, but he always hoped to see her eyes light up when she saw what he picked out for her. It had failed more than it had ever succeeded, but he was always hopeful. Gerard bought things for Lindsey all the time. She always appreciated it. She was always happy to receive nice things even if her home needed repairs. 

“Oh—this is nice,” Jamia said, her eyes and expression unchanging as she opened the box to reveal the silver bracelet inside. 

“The gems are all real,” Frank said, moving to sit beside her at the head of the bed and pointing at the rubies and diamonds. “I just went in to look around, but—”

“You didn’t buy the girls antiques did you?” She asked, snapping the box closed and setting it aside on the nightstand. 

“No. I got them stuffed animals—why don’t you try it on?” He asked, daring to lean over her to grab the box off the nightstand. 

“I don’t _want_ to try it on,” Jamia said, grabbing it from his hand and setting it back down. “You need a shower, Frank.” 

“Wh—Why? Do I smell bad?” 

“Ugh—yes.” Jamia shifted down on the bed and rolled onto her side with her back to him, shutting him out. 

Frank looked from her to the discarded box on the nightstand, his spirits sinking. 

“I’ll…go get cleaned up,” he said, getting up from the bed. She didn’t say anything to him or offer to join him the way she had when they’d first been married and he’d gone on tour. She would hardly leave him alone for a second when he got home.

That was what he thought about as he undressed and stepped into his shower—his _own_ shower after months of strange hotels and outdoor hoses. Finally he was able to use his own shampoo—after digging it out from its hiding place under the bathroom sink—and his own soaps. He took his time, hoping that Jamia would be asleep when he got back to bed since he knew she was irritated with him and would probably kick him out of the bed his first night home if he tried cuddling up to her while she was awake. 

( ) ( ) ( )

“Wake up, darling.” 

Frank flinched when he felt a hand on his head, not sure where he was or why the room was so bright. This wasn’t the dark, cramped space of the bunk. It was spacious and light.

His eyes came into focus, staring at the nightstand were the discarded, black velvet box was. There was a mug being set down beside it and he could suddenly smell coffee. 

“What time is it?” He asked, sitting up groggily. 

“It’s past one,” Jamia said, standing at the edge of the bed and staring down at him. “It’s been hell keeping the girls from waking you up.”

“They could wake me up,” Frank said. “You didn’t have to worry.”

“You think I wanted them waking you up at ten o’clock and then having you sleeping the rest of the day? The girls will want to play with you and they won’t stop asking if you brought their presents.”

“Sorry,” Frank said, reaching for the mug of coffee on the nightstand and taking a sip. 

“Sorry? I’m not trying to get you to apologize! Why do you always have to do this?”

“Do what?” Frank asked, quickly setting the cup back down before he dropped it from the anxiety. 

“Just because I tell you something doesn’t mean I’m yelling at you and _want_ an apology! I’m just telling you that all morning they girls have been trying to come in here and I stopped them so you could get the rest you _need._ ”

“Thank you?” Frank said, blinking at her. He didn’t know what to say to her when she got this way. Usually it wasn’t until a week or two back from tour that she got this way. His therapist said she was probably just having trouble adjusting to going from a single-parent home to sharing responsibility with two parents. It made her stressed and anxious. It would go away, his therapist told him. But it never went away, and now it seemed to be getting worse. 

“Get dressed so I can let the girls in,” Jamia said, fixing him with a scowl and then leaving the room. 

The pain constricted in his chest as he made himself throw off the blankets. He missed his wife. His _kind_ wife. The one who missed him when he was gone and called him every night, even when she knew he sometimes couldn’t answer. She’d leave voicemails—sweet voicemails—telling him about her day and asking how his show had gone. 

Why had it changed? Where had he gone wrong?

He’d asked her, shortly after she told him they were having a baby, if she wanted him to stop touring. He would do it for her. He would leave music for her to help raise a family. They hadn’t expected to have children or start a family so soon, but he wanted to be a parent for his children. He wanted to be a father for them, not just a man who appeared and disappeared from their lives on a whim. 

She’d told him no. She told him she wanted him to continue pursuing his dream. It was only later that she confessed she didn’t want him to resent her if she asked him to leave the band. He’d asked he again if she wanted him to quit—promised he wouldn’t hold anything against her—but she said no. 

Now it was she who resented him and he was afraid to quit touring. They needed the money…and he was afraid of what she would do to him if he stayed home. If he didn’t get a new job the very day he was home, he knew she’d just yell at him until he managed to find one. He felt trapped…

He continued to sip his coffee as he got dressed and fixed his hair, and then carried the cup with him as he opened his bedroom door and started down the stairs. He could hear his girls talking to each other—talking over each other about crayons and their coloring books. 

Their voices alone were enough to lift his spirits as he quietly approached the living room where his girls were lying on the floor. They had their crayons and all of their art supplies scattered around them in a sea of papers, drawing pictures and coloring in their books as they waited for him. When he saw that several of the drawings drifting around on the hardwood floors had TO: DAD written all over them, he started grinning and couldn’t hold back anymore. 

He stood in the doorway and cleared his throat, beaming when his girls lifted their heads and screamed in excitement. Their crayons and papers were abandoned as they both rushed him, racing to see who could get to him first. He kneeled down to be at their level and wrapped an arms around them, holding them tight. Both of his girls clung to him and kissed him, still screaming and cheering as he kissed their cheeks and heads. 

“I love you, Daddy!”

“I missed you, Daddy!”

“I missed you the most!”

Back and forth they screamed at him, vying for his attention and to have him say he loved them the most.

“I missed you too,” Frank said, hugging them both tight. “What were you working on, huh?” He asked, letting them go as they hurried to get their pictures to show him. 

“I drew Sweet Pea!”

“I made you and Mommy!” 

Cherry pushed the drawing of their dog into his face while Lily stood next to him, stomping her feet until he managed to take the drawing from her despite Cherry’s attempts to block it. 

“Wow, guys. These are really good! You made them for me?”

“Yes!” The girls both screamed at him. 

“Girls, inside voice pleases!” Jamia called from the kitchen. 

The girls both went quiet, but kept doing laps, grabbing new pictures and showing them to him. He kissed them over and over as he looked at the drawings, whispering praises and reminding his girls that they were loved even if he wasn’t around the way a father should be.

“Did you get us presents?” Cherry asked.

“I did,” Frank said, smiling and letting them go. “Do you want them?”

“Yes!” His girls shouted, completely forgetting that their mother asked them to be quiet. Frank shushed them, but to no effect. 

Quickly, he went to his luggage left by the front door and unzipped the main compartment. 

“Close your eyes—no peeking,” he said, smiling at them and blocking their view until he was sure they couldn’t see, even making them cover their eyes with their hands. He came to kneel before them, holding nearly identical stuffed dogs in his hands. “Okay—you can look.”

The girls screamed as though the dogs were the best gift ever and took them, not even fighting over the “better” one this time as they had before. The last time he’d brought home a stuffed kitten and a stuffed elephant. They both wanted the elephant and Jamia had glared at him, unspeaking, for two days after breaking up the girls’ fight. 

“Do you like them?” Frank asked.

His girls screamed yes and then ran to their mother to show her the animals. 

“Yes. They’re very nice. Did you tell your father thank you?”

They shouted out thank you without turning to look at him, too busy cuddling and smiling down at their new toys. 

“Frank, I’m finishing lunch. Can you put your suitcase upstairs and put your dirty clothes in the laundry basket?”

“Sure, Babe,” Frank said, smiling at her. She didn’t smile back. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Frank was helping to do dishes after he and Jamia had put the girls to bed. It took a little extra effort since they were still excited to have him home—and also afraid that if they went to sleep, he would be gone when they woke up. He promised over and over that he didn’t have to go on tour again for another _three months,_ but they weren’t soothed. Lily had cried over it until Frank read her and her sister another bedtime story and kissed them both on the forehead again. 

He was rinsing the plates before they went into the dishwasher, and all of a sudden he felt Jamia’s arms winding around his waist. She rubbed his hips a little before resting her cheek against his shoulder.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi,” Frank said, smiling but trying to hide his excitement. If he got too eager he might offend her, but he knew exactly what her touches on his hips meant—especially when she started slipping her hands inside his shirt to rubs his stomach.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“Good,” Frank said, wanting to kiss her but knowing he had to finish the dishes first. It was hard to stay focused with her fingers running over his skin, making his muscles tremble just slightly with anticipation. 

“Just good?”

“Really good,” Frank moaned. The fingertips of her right hand had slid beneath the waistband of his jeans and after months of going without anyone’s touch other than his own, he was desperate to have more. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” She asked, her voice a low, seductive purr. 

“Sh-should I finish the dishes?” Frank stammered. Immediately her hands left him and Frank whimpered at the loss, terrified she was going to tell him to just forget it—and add that he could sleep on the couch tonight if dishes were more important to him than her. 

“Do you _really_ want to worry about the dishes right now?” She asked.

“No,” Frank said, quickly turning off the faucet and drying his hands on the towel. “No—No. I want to go upstairs.”

“You _want_ to go upstairs?” She asked, fixing him with a cruel stare. He just couldn’t do anything right…

“I love you,” he said. 

She smiled.

Thank _God_ she smiled.

“I love you too, Honey. Now are you coming upstairs or not?”

“I’m coming,” Frank said, smiling and following her to their room. As soon as the door closed behind him, she started stripping off her shirt. He took the brief opportunity to look her over as she took off her jeans and socks, but knew if he stared too long she’d get uncomfortable. He took off his own shirt but she came and started helping him undo his belt. “I love you,” Frank whispered, kissing her face as she stripped him.

“Yes, I know,” she said. “I love you too.” It sounded like an afterthought, but Frank wasn’t going to complain. He’d missed her. He’d missed her so much. He wished he didn’t ever have to leave again.


	2. Where do we belong?

Gerard’s phone started ringing at eleven o’clock in the evening his third night back from tour. He expected it to be Mikey, having fun out on the town and wanting to share the joy. Gerard had been sitting at his desk sketching while Lindsey was in her own studio working on another painting. She’d been in there since Gerard had gotten home from tour, but promised her work was almost done and she’d be more sociable soon. 

Even when Gerard saw that it was Frank calling instead of Mikey, Gerard wasn’t surprised. He took a deep breath before accepting the bringing the phone to his ear while mentally calculating what time it would be in Jersey. 

“Hey, Frank—what’s going on?” Gerard asked. It was going on two a.m. in Jersey. If Frank was calling now, it meant something bad had happened.

“Hey,” Frank said, his voice meek and hushed. 

“You alright?” Gerard asked, already knowing the answer. 

Frank thought he had them all fooled. He thought they actually believed it when he said his black eyes came from accidents on his girls’ swing set or from tripping on the stairs. They knew better. Especially Gerard—the recipient of all the late night phone calls pleading for advice and help. 

“I… I’m… I don’t know,” Frank said, his voice shaking a little.

“Where are you?” Gerard asked. It wasn’t like he could really go to him, not now that he’d moved to LA. 

“Downstairs…”

“Where’s Jamia?” Gerard asked. Frank’s voice was hushed so Gerard knew she was still in the house. 

“In our room,” Frank whispered.

“What happened?” Gerard asked, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. Usually it took a week or more for the phone calls to start. This time it only took three days. Gerard didn’t know how Frank was supposed to last three months with her before the next tour. 

“She said she’s going to take the girls,” Frank said, his voice cracking. “She’s going to take them away from me and there’s nothing I can do.” 

“Frank, she’s not going to take your girls,” Gerard said, keeping his voice as calm and gentle as possible. Frank loved his girls—they were his whole life. Gerard remembered how excited he’d been when he first found out that Jamia was pregnant. He showed everyone the ultrasound photos and talked for days about baby names for boys and girls. It seemed that as soon as Jamia learned her loved his daughters more than he loved her, she’d changed. First she rejected her children, then she rejected him instead—seeing the girls as invaluable weapons to keep Frank under control. Whenever he said or did _anything_ she didn’t like, then she would start talking about how she was going to take the girls away and move in with her mother. 

“She said… Fuck, she said that no court would even give me visitation because of all the shit I’ve said in interviews and what…what we used to do on stage and—”

“Frank, she’s not going to take your girls. Believe me. She doesn’t mean it.”

“You don’t understand… She’s so _angry_ with me. She wants to take the girls.”

“She’s not going to take your girls,” Gerard said. “I promise you. She’s not going to take your girls.”

“You don’t understand,” Frank said, starting to cry. 

“What happened, Frank?” Gerard asked, keeping his tone of voice mellow and soft. 

“We—we were in the bedroom. Just talking,” he added quickly. “Just talking… And, all of a sudden, she just got so _angry_ with me. I don’t remember what I said, but she…”

“She what, Frank?” Gerard asked, gently coaxing him to say more. 

“I bought her that bracelet, you know? The really nice one from London?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember it,” Gerard said. It was a beautiful bracelet, covered in diamonds and gems set in silver. It looked to be Victorian though Gerard couldn’t remember the exact date that the little paper tag had said. Frank wanted it for her as soon as he laid eyes on it—and babbled endlessly about how happy she would be when she got it. He’d acted as though the expensive trinket would save his shitty marriage. 

“She threw it at me and told me she hates it. I really thought she’d like it, Gerard.” He was whimpering as if the bracelet were really the root of all his problems. 

“Frank… I-I don’t know what to say. She’s…she’s not going to take your girls. I’m sorry she didn’t like your gift, but she’s not going to leave you.”

“I don’t know how it got this bad,” Frank cried. “I can’t do _anything_ right. I keep asking her if she wants me to quit the band, but she says no. How can she get mad at me for leaving and _not_ want me to quit that band? What am I supposed to do?”

“Frank…” Gerard wanted to tell him to leave his wife. Divorce her. Put as much space between himself and her as possible, but if he did that she _would_ take the kids. He couldn’t bring them on tour, and if he quit the band to raise them, he would have no money to afford them.

And Jamia had a point. What court would give full custody to a man covered head-to-toe in tattoos rather than their clean, pure-looking mother? 

“I can’t take this anymore,” Frank said, his voice breaking as he cried. 

Gerard’s chest constricted painfully at the sound, feeling just as helpless as Frank. It hurt him to know Frank was so unhappy. It pained him that he couldn’t do anything to help except listen to each and every tearful tale. He loved Frank. 

He _loved_ Frank. He didn’t want to see his life end up like this.

“She’s not going to leave you, Frank.”

“You didn’t hear her! She _meant_ it. She’s going to take my girls away and there’s _nothing_ I can do! I don’t want my kids to grow up without their father! You don’t know how _hard_ that is! I told myself if I had kids I would _never_ abandon them—I can’t let her take them away. My girls need their father, Gerard. I-I can’t let them down. They _need_ me.”

“I know, Frank. It’s okay. I understand.”

“She _can’t_ take my girls,” Frank cried, starting to sob as his poor composure broke completely. “Please, don’t let her take my girls from me. I can’t lose my girls.”

Hearing Frank cry made Gerard want to cry. It hurt knowing Frank was in so much pain and he was too far away to do anything. He couldn’t offer him a hug or even a pat on the back. All he could do was hum in acknowledgment and reassure him that Jamia wouldn’t take his girls away. 

She _couldn’t_ take his girls away. If she left him, she wouldn’t have her favorite punching bag anymore. But Gerard couldn’t tell Frank that. 

“I’m sorry, Sugar,” Gerard whispered, hoping the petname wouldn’t set Frank off the way it had the last time. 

That part of their lives was over, Frank had screamed. There was nothing left between them but bruised egos and hurt feelings. They had wives now and children. It did little good to sit around and dwell on past mistakes.

Mistakes.

_Mistakes._

Frank thought their history together was nothing but on big mistake. 

“I’m sorry, too,” Frank whispered. “I… I shouldn’t bother you. I know it’s late.” Gerard could hear Frank wiping his face on his sleeves and sniffing back his tears. 

“Frank, you know you’re not bothering me.”

“It’s late,” Frank repeated. “I’ll—I’ll let you go. I’m sorry.”

“No—Frank, it’s… It’s fine. You don’t need to hang up. I don’t want you to go.”

“I can’t—I can’t keep running to you every time I fuck up my marriage,” Frank whispered. “It isn’t fair.”

“Frank, I don’t care why you call me or—or when. Don’t hang up.” Gerard knew it was futile—and not just that, it was foolish. He was married, too. With a child. What was in the past had to stay in the past. Frank would never come back to him, and even if he did it would never be the same.

“I can’t keep bothering you with this,” Frank whispered, clearing his throat as he tried to act like he wasn’t still crying. “I just…I just don’t know where else to go.”

“You can talk to me, Frank. I’m still your friend. I love you.”

“I need to go,” Frank said, his voice shaking again.

“Frank—”

“I’m sorry for calling so late. Tell Lindsey I said hi.” 

The phone beeped and when Gerard lowered it form his ear, he saw the call had been ended. Gerard sighed and set the phone back down on his desk beside his sketch. He let out a heavy sigh and stared down at his drawing, keeping his composure for all of ten seconds before grabbing the sketch and ripping it apart. He swore under his breath, tearing off more and more pieces of paper and then tossing the scraps into the waste can, growling at each one that fell onto the floor instead. 

( ) ( ) ( )

Things had calmed down for the last two weeks that Frank was home. She’d stopped yelling at him, stopped smacking him in front of the girls, and was letting him close her again. The past three months had been a slowly mounting torture and he was so thankful for the reprieve that would come when he left for tour again. He would miss his girls, but he wouldn’t miss the name calling or the slaps or the looks of disgust his wife kept giving him. 

There had been so many days he just couldn’t get out of bed. Usually that was when Jamia knew she’d taken it too far. Before she would back off when he started to get too depressed to get up and join his family. Now, she just scolded him and told him he was a lousy father if he was only home three months out of the year and wouldn’t even spend that time with his kids. 

Each insult cut him deeper and deeper until his stays in bed were filled to the brim with thoughts of self-murder and ways he could do it so the girls wouldn’t have to see. Maybe he’d jump off a bridge, or maybe he’d just go walking in the wrong part of town and get himself shot. If he was murdered, his life insurance payout would go to the girls. It would be their college fund… 

But now, Jamia was being nice again. She was still a shadow of her former self, but anything was better than the monster who had been tormenting him for weeks. 

“You’re staying in the country this time, right?” She asked.

“Yeah. We’re working our way out West, then we’ll come back to the East coast,” Frank mumbled. He was working on dishes again, trying not to show too much emotion in fear that sadness would anger her and happiness might give her the wrong idea. They’d had far too many ‘oh, so you’re _happy_ to leave me and the girls again’ conversations already. 

“How long will you be gone?”

“Six months… But we get a break around the holidays.”

“I’ll miss you,” she said, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, unable to even pretend he believed her. “I’ll miss you too,” he added, waiting for her to scold him and belittle him for hesitating. 

“I’m sorry I was so hard on you. It’s just so hard for me…to have you gone all the time. I tell myself I hate you so I don’t miss you so much.”

“You’d rather hate me than miss me?” Frank asked.

“Hating you doesn’t hurt so much.”

“It hurts me,” Frank said, trying to hide his pain with a laugh. It didn’t work.

“Aw… Well that’s because you’re so sensitive. It’s no big secret that you’re a pansy.”

“Can you…can you just stop? Please. Just stop,” Frank said, not caring if her gentle hug turned into a slap across the back of his head. 

“Oh, Frank, I’m just teasing you.”

“Well you’ve _teased_ me enough.” There was more he wanted to say, but he bit it back. She was being nice now. He needed to just let her be nice. For the girls. For his sanity. 

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

“I need to finish the dishes.”

“You’d rather finish the dishes than spend time with me?” She asked.

“The dishes need done,” Frank mumbled. 

“Maybe _I_ need done,” Jamia said, sliding one of her hands down the front of his jeans and squeezing him hard. “What do you say?”

“Jamia, I—”

“We don’t even have to go upstairs. Come on. Let’s do it on the couch.” She started rubbing him through his boxers, not at all gently. It was hurting him and she had to have known it. It was probably her intention… “Come on, Frankie. Let’s go to the couch. Maybe we’ll have another baby, huh? Maybe this time we’ll have a son. What do you think? Come on.” Her words became a low purr as she felt him through his boxers, her other hand coming up to stroke his throat—her nails raising goosebumps along his neck. “Come on—turn that off and let’s go. Let’s try for another baby. I thought you wanted a big family.”

“I do,” Frank said, trying to fight the memories that rushed him. She’d been so happy when they found out they were having a baby the first time—and even more excited when she learned it was twins, and twin girls! They talked on the phone for hours when he wasn’t there, spoke endlessly when they were together. They picked out names and decorated the nursery together… 

Maybe they could do it again. Maybe she’d have another baby and go back to how she was before. They could bond over it like they had the last time. Talk about names, turn his office into a baby’s room. 

“I-I’ll leave the band if we have another baby. I won’t leave you to do it on your own again,” he said, turning around and wrapping his arms around her. She hugged him in return and kissed his neck, teasing the skin with her lips instead of answering him. “We can be a family—we can be happy.”

“Let’s go, Darling,” she said, pulling him toward the couch. They had to shoo the dogs away, more than one sniffing at them and getting a little too close for comfort as they stripped off their clothes, but Frank did his best to ignore them—afraid if he yelled at them, Jamia would lose the mood. All his thinking did was work against him though. “Can’t you put them up for five minutes?” She snapped. “I don’t want them staring at me! What is it with you and these dogs?—you want them to watch us fucking?”

Frank hurried to put the dogs outside into their fenced-in yard and by the time he got back, Jamia was posed on their couch—not mad. She wasn’t mad. They could still try for another baby. Things could still go back to the way they were before.

“Sorry,” Frank whispered, climbing back onto the couch and kissing her. 

“Mm, you should be,” she said, kissing back and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Or else next time the baby night not be yours.”

“Wh-what?” Frank asked.

“I said you should be sorry, or else next time our fight will run its course.” She smirked at him, knowing that wasn’t what she’d said and aware that he knew it, too.


	3. anywhere but here.

Gerard stood anxiously in the airport lobby, wringing his hands together as he waited for Frank. He’d left Jersey two days early so he and Gerard could visit each other—and so he could get away from Jamia before she could hurt him any worse. 

When Frank finally came into view, carrying all of his cases and luggage himself, he hardly looked like himself. He’d cut his hair short again and had his head down as he drew nearer and nearer, sunken in on himself. 

“Frank!” Lindsey called to him before Gerard could. He lifted his head at the sound of his name, but only a little. He nodded then, unable to wave since his hands were full of bags.

“Hey—how was your flight?” Gerard asked when Frank was finally close. Gerard took some the luggage from Frank’s hands, then Lindsey took his guitar case leaving Frank with only one large bag. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Lindsey asked when Frank didn’t speak right away.

“Oh, I’m fine. I’m just tired. That’s a five hour flight…” He mumbled.

“Well we’ll get you home and get you fed. I’ve got some vegan stew in the slow cooker for you,” Lindsey said, smiling at him. 

“A-and Bandit made some drawings for you. She’s really excited that you’re coming over,” Gerard said, his anxiety mounting with every passing minute that Frank didn’t crack a smile or look him fully in the face. He just kept his head down and followed them out of the airport. 

“Bandit says you’re her second favorite uncle,” Lindsey said, rubbing Frank’s shoulder. 

“That’s great… Yeah,” Frank said, looking up at her and flashing a very brief, very tired smile. 

He hardly spoke at all during the ride to the house and kept his head down as they moved his luggage into the guest room.

“I have to pick B up from school and take her to get those shoes for her dance class—is there anything you guys need me to pick up while I’m out?” Lindsey asked, smiling at Frank.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said, organizing his bags. There was no need to really unpack since he would only be there for two days. 

“Okay. I’ll leave you two to it then,” Lindsey said, ducking out of the room and going to fetch her keys. 

“Frank?” Gerard asked as soon as he heard the front door close.

“Yeah?” He kept his head ducked and his shoulders raised defensively as if he were expecting Gerard to attack him. It made him so uncomfortable to have Frank acting this way. They used to be so comfortable with one another—able to say and do anything to one another. 

“What happened?” Gerard asked. 

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? You called me at ten in the morning telling me you’re taking an early flight out here—no explanation, no nothing.”

“I told you if you didn’t have space for me I could stay at a hotel,” Frank said, starting to pick his bags up as if he really thought he could carry them down the street, across the town to a hotel.

“Frank—come on. What happened? What did she do?”

“It’s nothing. I just needed…to get out for a while.”

“You don’t get on a fucking plane and fly all the way across the country because you need to get out for a while. What the hell did she do?”

“Nothing.”

“Frank, I’m your best friend. You can tell me.”

“She said the girls aren’t mine,” Frank snapped.

“You know that’s not true. They look just like you— _just_ like you.”

“They look like her,” Frank said, his voice shaking. 

“They look like _you._ They’re your daughters.”

“Then why would she say that? Why would she say that to me?” Frank asked, turning around and scowling.

“I don’t know—to _hurt_ you? The reason she says all the shit she does? I don’t know why you put up with her, Frank. You pay the bills—you pay for her clothes and her shopping sprees. Put her in her place.”

“She’s my _wife,_ not one of my dogs.”

“She treats you like shit, Frank. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“Well I don’t know what to tell you. I can’t leave my wife… Even if they’re not my girls, they deserve to have a father.”

“They’re _your_ kids, Frank.”

“Yeah… Maybe.”

“Maybe? She was obsessed with you when you guys got pregnant. She didn’t have time to be with anyone else. I don’t know about _now,_ but back then she wasn’t cheating on you. They’re your girls.”

“Yeah, and I just fucking walked out on them. Father of the fuckin’ year, right?” Frank spat, going over to the bed and sinking down onto the mattress, his head in his hands. “I _love_ my girls. I love Jamia. I just…I don’t know what went wrong.”

“Have you tried… I don’t know, fuckin’ couples therapy? Have you tried to figure out what’s going on in that fucked up head of hers?”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Frank hissed, scowling up at Gerard defiantly. 

“Fine… I know she’s your wife. I know you love her, but she’s _mean_ to you, Frank. She’s _mean._ She yells at you, she belittles you, she _beats you up._ ”

“She hit me once,” Frank said.

“And once is enough,” Gerard said. “Frank, I know we haven’t been… I know… Fuck.”

Gerard rubbed his eyes and let out a low groan.

“I know things are different between us, but I still love you. I do. I mean that.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” Frank mumbled, looking down at the floor.

“Frank.” He waited until the man looked back up at him. “I mean it. I love you. I love you just as much as I love Lindsey.”

“Why?” Frank asked, huffing out a laugh and shrugging his shoulders.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re—”

“A terrible father? A shit husband?”

“You’re not a bad father! You _love_ your girls!”

“Yeah, and I’m never home to see them. What good is a father if he’s never around? I promised myself if I had kids, I wouldn’t abandon them. Now look at me! I’m gone eight months out of the year and the only reason they know who I am is because my picture is on the fucking wall! It’d be better for them if I fuckin’ died and _she_ remarried! Then they could have a real fucking father!” 

“Where the hell did you get that idea?” Gerard snapped, more desperate than angry. Frank was starting to cry and Gerard couldn’t handle it. He didn’t know how to comfort him anymore. 

“From _her!_ She told me that! _This morning!_ That’s why I left! I had to get out of there or—or… I just had to get out of there,” Frank mumbled, losing all of his vigor. “I don’t know what she wants.”

“I don’t either… You can try therapy. If you really want to make it work.”

“One minute she hates me, then the next she…she tells me she wants another baby.”

“Another kid? Frank…. Do _not_ have another child with her right now. It just gives her something else to use against you.”

“It’s too late for that,” Frank muttered.

“She’s _pregnant?_ ”

“Not… Maybe. I don’t know. We just started trying…a couple weeks ago.”

“Frank…” Gerard felt so bad for him. Frank was trapped. He spent all of his free time on the road. He didn’t have time to meet anyone else to show him what a healthy relationship should look like. Just because he was on tour didn’t mean his wife had a right to torment him when he got home or use his children as leverage. 

“I thought…if we had another baby, it might bring us closer. She was so happy when we were expecting the girls. Maybe…if he we had another, she’ll come back to me.”

“She’s—she… Frank, a baby isn’t going to change anything.”

“She has to still love me if she wants another child together, right?”

“Frank, please don’t ask me that. I can’t help you. Just—just maybe try to get her into therapy. You can do couples therapy.”

“She’d never do that…”

“Tell her to go or you’ll leave her.”

“She’ll leave me!” Frank cried. “Haven’t you been listening!? She wants to leave _me!_ ”

“She’s never going to leave you, Frank! She’s not leaving you! She’s fucking with you! She’s playing you like a game and it makes me fucking sick! You don’t deserve this! You’re so much better than her—you deserve so much better than her! I know you love your daughters, and if you don’t do something she’s going to turn them against you. I don’t want to see that happen.”

“Turn them against me? What are you talking about?”

“She hurts you in any way that she can. She knows how much you love your girls and it doesn’t take much to turn a kid against someone else.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Frank said.

“No?”

“No,” Frank said, shaking his head. 

“What’s to stop her Frank?”

“We’re having another baby,” he said. It was the only thing he had left to hang onto. “She wouldn’t want another baby with me if she didn’t love me.”

“If that’s what you want to think, I’m not going to argue,” Gerard said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Frank just sat there on the bed and stared up at him helplessly. Gerard couldn’t take that look.

“Listen… I know we… I know we broke up a _long_ time ago, but—”

“It was my fault,” Frank whispered. “I fuck everything up. It’s like my thing—it’s what I’m good at. Ruining everything.”

“Look, I don’t want to place blame. We’re not…we’re about to go on tour. We can’t get into that again. All I want to say is…I’m _sorry_ we broke up. You…you were the best partner I’ve ever had and if Jamia doesn’t see that she’s the luckiest woman in the world to have you, then…then she’s crazy.”

“You can’t say things like that,” Frank whispered, shaking his head and dismissing the words. “Lindsey’s better for you than I am. She…she can give you kids.”

“And I love Lindsey—and I love my daughter—but I love you, too.”

“Don’t do this,” Frank said, covering his face with his hands. “Don’t do this to me right now. You’ll make me sorry I came here.”

“Why? Why does that make you sorry?”

“I just want to fix my marriage, alright? Not wreck yours.”

“You’re not going to wreck my marriage! Lindsey knows about us—she knows how I feel about you.”

“You’ve told her that?”

“I tell her everything. She’s my wife!”

“And she’s okay with that?” Frank snapped. “She’s okay with your ex-boyfriend who you’re still _apparently_ hung up on, staying in your guest room?”

“Yeah, because she knows you’re married to Jamia and that’s never going to change. And I’m married to her, and that’s never going to change.”

“Then why are you even bringing it up?” Frank asked.

Gerard’s eyes widened when he saw how disappointed Frank looked. Maybe he was imagining things… Maybe he was misinterpreting it. Why would Frank look let down that Gerard didn’t want to talk about their old relationship? That topic was off-limits to prevent them from getting into fights and breaking up their band. 

“I still love you, Frank,” Gerard said, shrugging his shoulders as if pretending to be indifferent would take the weight from the words.

“Yeah?” Frank asked, not at all looking pleased.

“I don’t like the way she treats you,” he said. 

“Well, at the end of it, you weren’t that much better,” Frank said, looking away. He had his fingers linked together, hanging between his knees as he sat on the bed looking feeble and small. 

“Yeah,” Gerard whispered, daring to come sit beside him. Frank didn’t shift away and that was a good sign. It was predictable though. Frank hadn’t come here just for support. If he’d wanted support alone he could’ve gone to stay with Ray and never even leave New Jersey. 

“You… You said that I was the best partner you ever had?” Frank asked after a moment.

“Yeah. You and… You and Lindsey. You guys get me. You know I’m fuckin’ mental, you get my art—before you guys, I didn’t think I’d ever find someone I could connect with like that.” 

“Jamia used to be like that,” Frank whispered. 

“She’ll…she’ll come around,” Gerard said, not because it was true but because it was what Frank wanted to hear. He didn’t want to fight anymore. “Give therapy a try. Maybe…maybe she’s got a disorder or something. You know? Maybe she’s bipolar or…borderline.”

Frank nodded then said he wanted to lay down to sleep.

( ) ( ) ( )

“And this one’s you with a puppy!” Bandit said, pointing at her drawing as Frank looked over her shoulder. 

“Wow—this one’s a really good one,” Frank said, picking up the drawing to get a better look. “You just keep getting better and better.”

She smiled at him and laughed.

“Mommy helped me get the proportions right,” she said, saying ‘poposhens’ instead of proportions, but Frank didn’t have the heart to correct her. 

“Well you’ve learned from the best,” Frank said, smiling and turning to look over his shoulder at Gerard and Lindsey who were standing by the kitchen sink, talking to each other while sipping coffee. Lindsey kept saying something that made Gerard laugh, sputtering into his coffee mug until he finally just set the cup down. 

The atmosphere in this house was just so calming. Just over twenty-four hours in the house and he was already at ease, even though pre-tour packing and chaos was going on all around him. Lindsey understood touring and she knew how to remind Gerard what to pack without being overbearing. 

There wasn’t any yelling. No one guilt tripping him or making him feel awful for everything he did and said. 

“Now it’s your turn!” Bandit said, drawing Frank out of his thoughts.

“Hm? My turn to what?”

“To draw me a picture.”

“Aw, but I’m not very good at drawing.”

“I can teach you,” the little girl said, smiling at him and handing him a crayon. 

“Alright,” Frank said, passing one last look over his shoulder at Gerard who was kissing Lindsey on the mouth. Jealously knotted his stomach and Frank immediately turned his focus back to the paper on the table in front of him. “What do you want me to draw?”

“I don’t know,” she said, giggling.

“How about a ghost?”

“No—Daddy draws me ghosts. You can draw me a puppy.”

“Okay. I’ll draw you my puppy. How’s that?”

“Okay.” The girl smiled at him and watched the whole time he created a poorly-drawn caricature of Sweet Pea. No sooner had he finished the outline did the girl start trying to give him tips on how to make the picture better.

“Honey, you don’t need to pick it apart,” Lindsey said, suddenly appearing at the table. 

“It’s fine,” Frank said, smiling at her.

“Dad says criticism helps!” Bandit said as Lindsey picked her up from the chair. 

“It does, but it’s bath time.”

The girl started whining and whimpering, immediately trying to squirm away as he mother carried her upstairs.

“She takes after you, you know?” Frank said, looking at Gerard who was finishing his cup of coffee. 

“Yeah. A little bit. Hey—do you want to come into my office for a minute. I want to show you something.”

“Okay, sure,” Frank said, setting down the crayon and getting up from the table. He followed Gerard through the lower level of the house into Gerard’s cluttered studio office. He thought it odd when Gerard closed the door behind them. “What’s…” 

Gerard grabbed him almost as soon as Frank turned back to face him, pulling him into a kiss that Frank immediately resisted. This couldn’t be happening. This could _not_ be happening! Not with Lindsey upstairs giving Gerard’s _daughter_ a bath. Not in _her_ home. Not with his own cell phone constantly vibrating with unanswered calls from Jamia. 

“Gerard—”

“Hush,” Gerard said, kissing Frank harder and taking advantage of his surprise in order to slide his tongue into his mouth. Frank pushed against his chest, trying to get away while moaning in displeasure. 

This wasn’t why he came here. This _wasn’t_ why he came here. He came here for support. He came here for friendship. He didn’t come here to ruin Lindsey’s marriage!

Finally, Frank managed to turn his face away from the assault and took a deep breath.

“What the hell are you doing!?” He snapped, resisting Gerard’s hold on him but unable to get out of the crushing hug. The more he fought, Gerard started backing him up until Frank’s thighs slammed against the desk across the room and he sat down on it—knocking a can full of pencils onto the floor. “Gerard, stop! _Stop!_ ” Frank became desperate, not just shoving on Gerard’s shoulders but scratching him and pounding on his shoulders with his fist. “Let me go!”

“Frank, it’s okay,” Gerard said, pulling back a little but not giving Frank enough space to run. “I’m not going to hurt you—stop. Stop hitting me, come on.”

“What are you doing!? Lindsey’s upstairs!”

“I know,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s neck despite his protests.

“Stop it! You’re _married!_ What the hell are you trying to do?” Frank’s body shuddered as Gerard ran his lips up and down his throat.

“It’s okay. Lindsey doesn’t care.”

“Bullshit she doesn’t! You’re not using me to cheat! We’re over! You don’t like me like that! I’m not cheating on Jamia—oh fuck!” Frank tried pushing Gerard away again, but only ended up having his throat bitten. 

“Frank, I love you,” Gerard said. “I’ve always loved you.”

“You got married!”

“So did you,” Gerard said, slowly running one of his hands up Frank’s thigh. 

“You left me.”

“I was stupid,” Gerard said, kissing Frank on the cheek before slowly moving to kiss him on the mouth again. This time Frank didn’t resist. “I’ve missed you,” he added, kissing him again—a small, soft peck on the lips—over and over until Frank finally caved and started kissing back. 

Gerard parted his lips and let his tongue trace Frank’s bottom lip. Frank pulled away at first but then let out a sigh and opened his mouth. As soon as their tongues slid together, it was as though something inside of Frank snapped. He felt it—literally felt it—like a broken bone being set back in place. 

He no longer cared about the ringing phone in his back pocket. No one outside of this room had anything worthwhile to say to him. Jamia would just continue to insult him, belittle him, tell him she was leaving and taking the girls.

She wouldn’t leave. It was just like Gerard said. She was dependent on him and she was cruel to him because she resented it. A new baby wouldn’t fix her. Neither would an affair. But maybe knowing she had some competition might make her rethink her approach. 

Slowly, Frank unclenched his fist and held onto Gerard’s shoulders instead, holding him close while letting their kiss become a little bit deeper. 

Maybe she would leave if she found out. Maybe she would take the girls…

But she was planning to do that anyway and nothing he did or didn’t do was going to influence that now. 

He moved freely when Gerard stripped him of his shirt, no longer thinking—just acting. Accepting. Getting lost in the feeling of Gerard’s mouth on his neck, his fingers tracing his sides and making his skin prickle. 

All at once, Gerard stepped back, pulling Frank up from the desk and switching places with him before kissing him again—handing control over to Frank who’d been lacking it for so long. While Gerard’s hands came to rest on Frank’s hips, rubbing them and occasionally squeezing them as though expecting Frank to pull away, Frank kept their mouths locked together. He moaned as their tongues swirled together, passion that he had long thought stifled filling him yet again. 

It was Gerard who started unzipping his own jeans and stroking himself, little moans slipping out as Frank moved to kiss his neck instead. After a few more minutes of kissing, Frank caved and took it further, lowering his hand to stroke Gerard’s length himself. Gerard’s eye lids fluttered and he started smiling as soon as Frank touched him. He let out a small laugh that turned fast into another moan and leaned forward to kiss yet again until both their lips were bruised and swollen. 

“I missed this,” Frank whispered.

“I missed you,” Gerard said, kissing Frank’s jaw and neck while his right hand began fumbling with the drawer of his desk. When Frank looked down he noticed a very obvious bottle of lubricant and a condom. 

“You planned this,” Frank said, feeling a bit betrayed.

“I missed you,” Gerard repeated, looking up until Frank met his gaze. There was warmth in his eyes and love—things that he’d been missing longer than he cared to admit. “I still love you,” Gerard said.

Frank hesitated a moment, pulling his hands away from Gerard, but the light never left the other man’s eyes.

“I love you too,” he admitted. 

Gerard smiled and then leaned up for another kiss. It was only a few seconds before Gerard groaned and stood up from the desk again only to bend over it. 

“Come on, Sugar,” Gerard panted, sliding his jeans and underwear down past his hips. “Come on, Frankie. I’ve missed you so much.”

Frank swallowed hard, his mouth running dry at the sigh before him. How long had it been now? A year and a half, two years? How long had he been missing this and not letting himself admit it? 

Slowly, Frank unbuckled his belt, staring at the back of Gerard’s head as he undid his jeans. It felt automatic—almost as if he were acting out a scene in a play—as he grabbed the bottle of lube. He slicked up two of his fingers but paused a moment before lowering his hand to Gerard’s thighs. If he did this, there was no going back.

He was cheating on his wife. Gerard was cheating on his wife. It wasn’t one marriage ruined if they were caught, it was two. Two sets of children growing up without their father… 

“It’s okay, Frankie,” Gerard moaned. “I promise, it’s alright. I love you. I _need_ you.”

Promises. Loving. Needing. 

Everything Frank had desired. Without any further thought, he parted Gerard’s cheeks with his thumbs and stared a moment, his heart starting to race as he brought his index finger forward and pressed against Gerard’s hole. As soon as Frank touched him, Gerard moaned and pressed back against him, accepting it with ease when Frank slid his finger all the way inside. He slid it in and out a few times before pausing to add more lubricant, then slid a second finger in as well.

Gerard let out a quiet gasp and pressed back against him harder, moaning as Frank scissored him. 

“I missed you so much, Frankie. So fuckin’ much. You have no idea,” Gerard moaned. His moans turned to a quiet squeak of pain when Frank fit a third finger inside, but it didn’t last long. By the time Frank had rolled on the condom and slicked himself up, Gerard was panting and stroking himself—his cheek pressed against the wood of his desk so Frank could see part of his face, what wasn’t covered in a shroud of candy apple hair. “Oh, God—Frankie. Fuck, Frankie. Missed you. I fuckin’ missed you.” Gerard voice was shaking, cracked from the strain of biting back more moans as Frank set up a slow pace. 

He still felt as though he were an actor in a play—or trapped in a dream. It didn’t feel real to him. This had ended so long ago. Gerard had pushed and pushed until Frank finally gave up and let himself be cut out of his personal life. Forgotten about. 

“Feels so good, Baby,” Gerard moaned—determined to talk as if knowing it was the only way to keep Frank from tuning out. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” Frank murmured. “Loved you so much.” He sighed as he felt Gerard’s muscles spasm around him, his lover letting out a choked cry and scratching at the surface of his desk. 

“Oh, God. Fuck—Frankie, fuck!” Gerard called, squirming and pushing back to meet Frank’s thrusts while stroking himself faster. “Faster, Baby. Please, faster—oh, Sugar.” 

Gerard picked himself up off the surface of the desk and turned to reach Frank’s mouth, straining to kiss him while continuing to stroke his leaking cock. Frank kept one hand on Gerard’s hip while tangling the other in his long, red hair, using it to keep him trapped in the kiss before shoving him down against the desk and fucking him harder, faster—doing everything Gerard pleaded for him to do. 

Gerard let out a loud, strangled whimper as he came, his seed splashing against the edge of his desk and the floor. His muscles tightened, making Frank moan at the tightness, thrusting harder and relishing Gerard’s broken whimpering from the oversensitivity. Frank finished into the condom, his moan getting stuck in his throat as he collapsed against Gerard’s back, nuzzling his sweaty neck and the damp fabric of his t-shirt. 

“What happens now?” Frank whispered, wishing this were a bed—a hotel bed. A strange place. Someplace neutral. Not Gerard’s house. Not with his wife upstairs…

“Mm?” Gerard shifted, making Frank straighten up. As soon as he’d redone the fly of his jeans, Frank sat down at Gerard’s discarded desk chair, watching as his ex-lover, his former lover…his married best friend fixed his clothes. 

“What happens now?” Frank asked, looking at him, all of his walls coming down around him. 

“We… We go on tour.”

“And pretend this never happened,” Frank said. 

“If… If that’s what you want,” Gerard said, starting to look hurt. What had he expected though? Why would he come on to a married man? A man he knew had never been able to resist him? A man with two children he couldn’t risk losing… What was left for them to go on? 

“What else is there?” Frank asked, shrugging his shoulders, suddenly unable to look Frank in the face. 

“We…We can be together on tour, Frankie. Lindsey doesn’t mind as long as it’s not another woman—”

“Jamia’s not going to be okay with me… Shit, with me going behind her back. Especially not with you.”

“If you…if you don’t want to see me like that then…then that’s fine. I just… I really missed you, Frank. I hate the way she’s been treating you, Frankie. I love you so much and she just rips you down every chance she gets. It hurts me.”

“It hurts you?” Frank asked, looking up at Gerard. 

“Yes,” Gerard said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Frank whispered. He wanted to tack on that he couldn’t risk losing his girls, but kept it to himself. Gerard knew. Gerard understood. 

Gerard leaned down and pressed a kiss onto Frank’s lips. It was gentle, conscious of how sore and swollen both of their mouths were. When it ended, Frank expected to be dismissed. He’d served his purpose, now it was time for him to get out of dodge. 

Except when he stood to leave the room, Gerard wrapped his arms around him quickly and held him tight. He couldn’t stay. Frank knew that. But, for the moment, it just felt nice to be held—to be valued. Loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again for making Jamia so mean! I'm sure she's the sweetest woman in the world in real life and I most certainly do not hate her or think these things of her! Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think of this crazy new story idea!
> 
> For the latest fic news and updates, feel free to follow me on Twitter @Jatty_Sinful


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